She and Owen were alone.
Collingswood pointed the gun at Owen and said, “You will go fetch Swynford and bring him to me. If he truly doesn’t care about his wife, let him tell me to my face.”
Adele felt dizzy, the room swaying and spinning around her. Her hands were still tied, so she couldn’t brace herself against the wall, and she worried she might fall over. Beside her, Owen nodded and carefully walked toward the front door. “I will fetch him. I must go to his house, so this may take a little while. Please do not harm Adele.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
Owen sighed. “Because Beresford was partially bluffing. Maybe it’s not a love match, but I believe Swynford would want to avoid the family scandal should anything happen to his wife. She is therefore more valuable to you if she is alive.”
Collingswood pursed his lips but then nodded as if he understood the wisdom of that. But then he reached out and struck Adele across the face again. Adele grunted in pain that time. She lost her balance and her shoulder slammed into the wall. She took a deep breath and managed to use her elbow to push herself back into a standing position, but the dizziness returned, and she was beginning to worry she might pass out before this was all over.
Owen started to march back down the hall. “I swear to all that is holy, Collingswood. If you harm her further in any way, I will see you hanged myself. Forget about Swynford.”
“Fine. I won’t touch her again. Now go get Swynford. Let’s have this done.”
Owen opened the front door and now Adele found herself alone in a narrow corridor with Collingswood. She was terrified of the gun in his hand, worried it would go off when he did not intend it to. She tried to back up but tripped over the hem of her gown. The only thing that kept her on her feet is that she hit a wall with her shoulder again and was able to use it to keep herself from falling. She swallowed the cry of pain and leaned against the wall.
“What do you intend to do?” she asked, truly nauseous now. She did not want to be alone with this man. He looked a bit like Hugh, but shorter and less handsome, and he sneered at her in a way that seemed spiteful and dangerous.
His face twisted into a leer. “I can certainly see your appeal. Perhaps my cousin does not love you, but he would be sad to lose such a pretty plaything. If Swynford doesn’t want you, maybe I’ll keep you for myself.” He ran a finger down the side of her face. She pulled at her bindings again, wanting to slap his hand away.
Owen had not gone far, however. Instead the door burst open and a group of men came inside. Beresford and Hugh now stormed through the door, with Lark, Fletcher, and a man Adele did not know on their heels. Collingswood started at the invasion and flailed but did not fire the gun.
Hugh ran down the hall toward her. “Adele. Oh, Adele, are you hurt?”
“I am all right,” she said, although Hugh’s face was growing fuzzy. “He has a gun.”
He took her into his arms and held her closely, maneuvering her so that his body was between her and Collingswood. She was nearly relieved, although her stomach still roiled, and she knew they were not out of danger.
“It’s true,” said the unknown man. “Collingswood, show your hands.”
“He tied Her Grace’s hands behind her back,” said Owen.
The unknown man said, “You intended to use the duchess to force her husband to give you a tract of land.”
“Who are you?” asked Collingswood, still refusing to show his hands.
“Michael Shea. I’m a Bow Street runner. Show your hands.”
No one else seemed to be heeding Adele’s warning. Lark said, “If you need more, the duke was hit over the head near Grosvenor Square a couple of months ago. That night, his signet ring was stolen. I believe you will now find that ring on the hand of Lord Collingswood.”
Adele saw the glint of it—a heavy silver ring with a ruby on it, just as Hugh had described it—as Collingswood waved his hand. Then he brandished the gun.
“Look out!” shouted Adele.
Everyone turned toward Collingswood. He waved the gun around before pointing it up. Who he intended to shoot was not clear.
It did go off then. Everyone ducked. The bullet went up and hit the ceiling; an explosion of plaster caused a white cloud that obscured everyone’s appearance.
The Bow Street man, Shea, moved quickly. He grabbed Collingswood’s arms and pulled them behind his back, then he took the gun and handed it to Beresford, who placed it on a table.
“Well, this is fun,” said Shea. “Crime is down in London. I hardly ever get to arrest anyone anymore.”
Beresford chuckled. “Well, show him no hospitality.”
Shea looked at Collingswood’s hands. He pulled the signet ring off his right hand and examined it. “This certainly does look like the Swynford ring. I believe this belongs to you, Your Grace.”
He tossed the ring toward Hugh; Hugh caught it. Without letting go of Adele, he slipped it back on his own hand. Then he put his hand back on Adele’s back.
